My IG page has a TT Highlight for more - also be warned, there are graphic images.
I had Felicia the Flap removed (may she RIP).
And I had lipo on the sides of my hips and along my ribcage, where my bra band sits.
I recovered like a rockstar. (Keep in mind, I did not have an ab repair, which I hear is brutal.)
Meanwhile, Aaron had started a new a position with Apple - a dream job (at the time) that meant a cross country move - that was intended to be permanent.
So in July of 2021, just a few months post surgery, we set off for a new adventure.
New city. New routines.
Stress. Grief. All the things.
And within a few months… I gained 13 pounds.
Let me be clear:
This IS NOT about the number on the scale.
It’s about what that weight gain did to my body after surgery — and how sometimes, becoming a new version of yourself means doing work you thought you’d already done.
Suddenly, clothes fit differently.
Shirts pulled in weird places.
My back looked like a whole new shape.
(Insert “fat guy in a little coat” visual here. Humor keeps me sane.)
And the shelf. Ohhhh, the shelf.
March 2022 - I can also confirm that once my body reset back to its natural weight - the shelf still shelfs.
There’s this upper belly “shelf” that pops up now when I bloat? Yeah, she’s the unexpected roommate that moved in rent-free after surgery.
I loved my doc, she is actually great, pretty honest and I felt comfortable with her from the first moment I met her - but her reply didn't give me hope:
"If weight gain occurs then all patients get full in that spot!!!"
It also came with an offer for lipo in that spot if I could not lose weight on my own - which, at that point, I hadn’t fully ditched diet culture yet.
So of course, my brain went straight back to: okay, maybe I should “clean it up” again.
But the truth was, this weight gain didn’t need another diet to “fix” itself.
It was a mix of cortisol spikes, grief, and exploring a new city with lots of meals out (aka overeating + overdrinking and living life).
But here’s the real the kicker no one tells you:
When fat cells are removed, they grow back in new places.
They can’t return where they were taken from — so they just set up camp somewhere else.
Which explained why many parts of my body started to feel foreign to me.
And that’s when the real discomfort set in.
Not because I hated my body (ok, I did kind of dislike my body most days) but mostly because I didn’t feel physically comfortable in it.
And I didn’t know how to fix that without falling back into the old patterns I was trying to leave behind.
I didn’t want to diet again.
But I did want to feel at home in my body — to move, dress, and exist without constant awareness of how everything felt different.
That tension — wanting comfort without control — became its own kind of healing work.
Side Note: Reading Intuitive Eating later confirmed what we assumed - that the procedures can definitely change your body comp - Aaron also found other research, posted below.
This is an excerpt from Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Anti-Diet Approach that I stumbled upon when reading it - which solidified research Aaron had also been doing himself on the topic. See end of blog post for additional article and research.
At this point in the timeline, I wasn’t fully out of diet culture, but I was dipping my toe into what I thought was mindful eating — and some days throwing all caution to the wind and eating whatever the f I wanted (which, I’ve learned, is part of the process of reconnecting with your body).
I was somewhere between I am done dieting and I don't know what this mindful eating shit really means...but I’m figuring it out.
I tried to stay calm.
I ran bloodwork. Saw a functional doctor.
Tried to make “healthier” choices.
She wanted me to eat paleo - that was a no for me dawg.
So I tried to bring the containers back, cut back on dairy and gluten (wellness culture...IYKYK), but still not completely depriving myself like before.
I lost some weight.
But this isn’t about how I looked or a number on the scale. It was these “unexplained” changes in my body—how it felt.There’s this strange physical discomfort that comes from removing parts of your body at one size and then gaining weight; it creates a tightness, a pulling. Some days I felt so miserable I just wanted to put on compression shorts and lie down. (This still happens if I overeat or eat something that doesn’t sit well with my body and end up bloated.)
Even with all my awareness and self-compassion tools, the old thoughts crept in.
“How did I let myself go?”
“Why can’t I get it together again?”
I wasn’t prepared for it—emotionally, mentally, or physically. I didn’t want to diet again, but I did want to feel comfortable in my skin. I wanted to understand what was happening, not fix it. And that tension—wanting relief without restriction—became its own kind of work.
I thought the hard part was behind me after surgery.
Turns out, it was just the beginning of a new kind of work.
But here’s what I learned from that version of me:
She was doing her best — navigating grief, stress, and massive change all at once. Her body was reacting exactly how bodies do in those seasons.
She taught me new things about my body — what it needs, how it communicates, and how to listen.
She showed me how to have more compassion for myself through body-image disruptions. It didn’t happen overnight, but she got me there.
It didn’t mean the work I’d done failed.
It just meant I was entering a new chapter — one that required new tools, new awareness, and a whole lot more grace.
For a long time, I didn’t feel like I could talk about it. I’d chosen this surgery from a healthy, empowered place — so when my body changed afterward, it felt like something no one wanted to hear about. Like it didn’t count as a valid struggle.
And if you’re reading this and nodding because you’ve had a similar experience, or felt betrayed by a body you thought you understood… you’re not broken. You’re just human.
Whether it’s surgery, perimenopause, stress, or just life doing its thing — our bodies are always changing. What matters most is how we respond when they do.
PS – It’s okay to want to feel good in your body. But every body is different. We each have a natural place where our body feels its best — and that spot usually lives somewhere in the middle. Not in deprivation or overindulgence, not in chasing a certain size, but in that balance where you can live your life and still feel at home in your skin.
In the next post, I’ll share the grief and regert that followed…
Here are articles and studies on lipo, for any interested.
Article: With lipo, the fat comes back — in weird places - this article uses the following study as reference:
Fat redistribution following suction lipectomy: defense of body fat and patterns of restoration
And one more share if you want to watch here - this is a 4 minute clip of Bunnie, Jelly Roll’s wife talking about her experience with a BBL (Brazilian butt lift, for those who don't know) and her experience is VERY similar to mine.
"Your body completely changes. It changes the chemistry of your body."
I do want to say, there is some messaging I don’t love - when she talks about weight and size - but that is okay because I can hear that and not let it impact me or my thoughts about my weight or size, but if it is a trigger for you - skip it!